


Stronger

by sleepingseeker



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Character Study, Family, Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2018-02-17 13:33:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2311412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepingseeker/pseuds/sleepingseeker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even the strongest among us have moments of doubt and secret yearnings. Leonardo finds himself making a wish. One that only he can fulfill.</p><p>1,178 words</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stronger

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bethblacksoul on Tumblr](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=bethblacksoul+on+Tumblr).



> Written for my sweet and dear friend bethblacksoul. I hope I wrote what you were looking for and I didn’t get in the way ;’D

Shadows long and deep drape and slide across the moss-lined tunnels where he walks.  Slow and steady one foot then the next; tiny eruptions of dust rise up only to settle once again behind him in the crevices of the imprints of his bare feet.  That he leaves tracks matters little, for he is the only soul that might wander these passageways. 

They are alone.  And should they fall, there would be few that remember; few that grieve.  A truth that he’s come long ago to accept.  But only now these past few weeks has it seemed that the concept of their separation from the rest of the world sits upon the back of his neck; a pressure, a squeezing; an irritation that he cannot rid himself of.  It keeps him awake at night.  Staring at the cracks which mar his crumbling ceiling.  It causes his normally flawless execution of his katas to falter and waver; growing more this frustration within himself.  Making him more keenly aware that something is wrong with him. 

He hesitates outside the turn that leads him home.  Where they wait.  Like always.  For him.  For his orders and dissatisfaction.  Big brother to straighten the edges of their behavior; to remind them to honor their sensei by actions and words; to work harder on their training; all his commands butting up against the incessant grumbling, complaining and insistence that what they give is enough.  Only Leonardo knows it isn’t.  Not nearly enough.  Because their enemies train just as hard if not harder and they possess a blood lust that is not curtailed by idle distraction and shallow pleasures. 

So he is obligated to pick up the slack.  He does so seamlessly and without question.  It is his honor to protect them.  His duty to keep his family safe.  He lives this promise; he’ll die by this fealty.  He knows this.  Understands and accepts it.  Who else would he offer in his stead?  None of them.  Never.  And yet the fingers of responsibility lace across his throat like twining tendrils.  And the isolation surrounding him from without is dwarfed by the emptiness, the separation, the loneliness he feels within.  And suddenly the gravity of the compacted soil, cement and asphalt presses upon him; too heavy; too thick. It’s hard to breathe.  It’s hard to stand upright.

And just behind him, a ladder hangs from the bricks in silent temptation.  He has only to turn.  To reach out and grasp the rungs in order to breathe once more.  And though he is not one for giving into whims or indulging in anything that would not somehow, in some way, benefit his brothers and father, Leonardo remains; suspended with indecision.  Why should a breath of air, stolen from the night be felt as sin?  It is only a moment that he needs.  Only to catch himself and find balance; to shed this weight from his neck; so that he may return whole and competent to his family.

He turns and, as if in a dream, makes his way to the ladder and begins to climb.  Each reach and grab of the rung quicker than the last.  Until finally above, he hurries to replace the cover and fights an urge to bolt; legs jumping with the need to run. 

Outside the crisp autumn twilight runs greedy hands over the bare expanse of his skin.  He slips aside and becomes another shadow.  A slithering wraith without substance as he glides over the building’s fire escape to the rooftop.  And still his legs wish only to jump and leap and race and hurtle over and between.  To hurry.  To hurry away.  To streak like a fallen star; plummeting while foaming with self-immolation.

He takes in a breath, a great gasping inhale as he reaches the roof line.  Eyes gleaming behind his dark mask.  Breath now short and even; pulling the night air into himself.  Healing more with every exhalation of that underground musk; cleansing his lungs of the filth.  Replacing it with air that smells of rain and steel; smoke and the distant brine of an ocean which calls his name on the edges of every breeze. 

The gaping sky above looms starless and void.  A black yawn of nothingness; a surging pull of freedom untainted and undeniable that makes him suddenly dizzy as he glances into the vastness above.  He skips to one side and nearly bolts, but his loyalty to his family creates a solid wall between progression and stagnation.  A vertigo assaults him then and he trips, stumbling forward to grip the metal railing attached to the parapet of the apartment building he stands upon.  His knees quake and he swallows, eyes going wide.  Feeling sick.  Torn in two.  Palms slick.  Heart galloping. 

The balance he sought is missing.  There is no balance where peace does not dwell.  He knows this.  He should.  As always, however, the scales seem tipped against him.  The magnetic pull of where he belongs counters the need to be where he secretly wishes and his knees finally give out.  He sits in a heap.  Rests the back of his head against the rough concrete wall and gazes unblinking into the darkness spiraling above him. 

“I don’t care,” he says finally to the unemotional sky and his voice is strong and even though small in the scheme of things.  He places one hand upon the hard surface of his chest; feels the beating of his heart against his palm.  And though it only belongs to his family, and aches for something he cannot name, for now, he will make it enough.  For him, there is no other choice. 

To himself now, he murmurs, “It’s nothing that I don’t want.  That I can’t handle.” 

Eyes raising, he scans the sky once more to try and glimpse any derision or comment; any scoffing or answer; however miniscule; however subtle or bleak.  He waits.  Watching.  But there is only he and the expansive night along with the invisible threads which tie him to this place.  Strong as webbing; fine as silk. 

A single winking star burrows a pinprick hole in the black stretch beyond him.  He sees it and focuses on it with a sudden powerful urge to make a wish.  Childish as it seems.  Strength gathers in the pit of his stomach. “The lives of my family, their safety, is all that matters.  I … I wish … I wish to be strong, to protect them for as long as I can.  For as long as they will need me.” 

His hand falls from his chest and he crosses his legs, placing the backs of his hands against his knees, fingers to thumbs, eyes shifting closed.  Beneath the twinkling he feels oddly less alone.  And more determined than ever. 

If he cannot find equilibrium, he will create it.  Whatever hole seeps within his heart he will ignore.  And if the weight of carrying the burden of protecting his family ever becomes too great …

He will get stronger.


End file.
